


(For those who hear and) Mark My Words

by i_am_a_hog



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Soulmate-Identifying Marks, it's just really sweet, slight angst, tw: mentions of Goethe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 05:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19100875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_a_hog/pseuds/i_am_a_hog
Summary: ( ... listen to the good plan )Soulmate AU where the last words your soulmate says to you, are written on your skin.





	(For those who hear and) Mark My Words

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! The first Soulmate AU for the TV show (as far as I'm aware)  
> I think all the plot ties up nicely but let's see what y'all think.
> 
> Title is from The Prophet's Song by Queen (obviously)
> 
> Shout-out to my Schoethe bitches!! <3

The thing about soulmates was as follows: The concept was completely and utterly useless. Even Aziraphale was not sure what function soulmates really served. One would live their life completely unaffected by the matter of their soulmate only to find out once it was too late.

The words on one’s skin were no other but the last words one would ever hear from their soulmate.

In other words, many people chose to completely ignore the notion of soulmates, it was bound to be painful. Some had elaborate tattoos to cover up those words, others chose to always cover it up or simply ignore it. They viewed soul-marks like appendixes; completely redundant.

Yet, Aziraphale never could let go off the romance of it all. He adored the idea of people inherently belonging together, their love of any form memorised forever on their skin even if they themselves did not know.

Angels had soulmates. Nobody really knew what those utterances were really based off, but the few angels with human soulmates insisted, that the same rules applied. But Aziraphale had his doubts because even though he did have some words of his own, the sentence was not finished, as if God herself had gotten bored of him and just discarded him into his life unfinished.

And then, about five-thousand years into his life on earth, Aziraphale fell in love.

At least, he thought it had to be love. With the way his heart began to race and his palms were sweaty. He got used to it after several centuries, silently wishing to be closer than he would ever be allowed. But at least the person of his affections, was just as immortal as Aziraphale himself. He did not bother to hold back expressing his affection, if only through looks and smiles; after all, they would never get a chance to get together due to not only their jobs and assignments but their very natures. It could not possibly hurt to enjoy his time with Crowley while it lasted. Especially when Crowley seemed to feel some kind of way about Aziraphale as well. It was in the way he cocked his head with the smallest of smiles when he thought Aziraphale wasn’t looking and in the way he talked differently to him than anybody else. Starting with “angel”.

Aziraphale was pretty sure, to Crowley, this was a term of endearment, because his voice became softer and more gentle when he addressed Aziraphale like that. There was no doubt – they were both somehow incredibly drawn to one another with nothing whatsoever to do about it.

Sometimes, Aziraphale was sure one of them was going to snap. There had been an instance in the eighteenth century – after the birth of Christ, of course - when they had spent a night in a rented room of a shabby inn in Germany. Crowley had been gone the whole day doing God-knows-what with a young poet named Goethe and even though to this day, the demon had never actually told Aziraphale about what exactly had happened between them, the angel was fairly sure it was less than innocent. Months later the draft of a book was released – the main Character bearing some of Goethe’s characteristics and the demon, or devil as he called himself… well, Aziraphale certainly knew who he reminded him of.

So he might have been just a bit jealous, arguing with Crowley about how bad – morally – such relations to humans could be. Especially to those that had a different soulmate.

“And how would they know, pray tell?” Crowley sneered and a cold shiver ran through Aziraphale.

_Because I want you to be with me and nobody else,_ his mind supplied but what he had actually said was more along the lines of “You should feel it.”

“And what if I don’t know what I’m feeling?” Crowley hissed and stepped up into the angel’s space. He felt his breathing speed up and his mind begin to falter, because what if Crowley kissed him now? Was he ready? Did he want this? Was this _right_?

“I don’t know,” he breathed out and Crowley sank back onto the creaking bedframe, sulking, while Aziraphale excused himself. Once alone, outside the inn under a pitch-black sky, he rolled up his left sleeve and stared down at the black letters, that curled around each other.

_I understand some of it, but some of it, well, it’s just a little bit too_

Aziraphale had no idea what that could mean and he knew even less who might one day utter these words, but Crowley’s behaviour had still sent a sharp pain through his heart.

Then, after Crowley had rescued him from that church, risking his life, barely able to enter the area at all, Aziraphale had really felt like kissing him. Even more so after Crowley revealed his books to him - untouched by any of the destruction. But Aziraphale restrained himself. After all, they were in public.

They lived their lives unentwined for several decades after that until the Antichrist entered the scene. There were touches, a fingers bumping against one another, lingering; a stealthy hand on a cheek. There were looks, charged with several millennia of emotions and there were words that did not mean what they were saying. But it never went any further.

When Crowley shoved Aziraphale against the wall in the cream-coloured hallway of what had once been a convent, Aziraphale had a hard time breathing. Crowley was so close, hands curled into fists at Aziraphale’s collar and if he had just leaned forward an inch, their lips would have brushed together and all of Aziraphale’s feelings would have been set free. But they were interrupted and that was probably for the best.

The end of the world kept both of them pretty busy, but all the way through it, Aziraphale became more and more convinced of Crowley’s affection for him, even though the demon tried to hide it so desperately. It was only when he was inside Crowley’s body, looking at his own face like a reflection -it was only then, that he knew if they were to somehow survive all of this, he would have to act, because there was nobody who came even close to Crowley when it came to the amount of trust and love he held for anybody.

“Do you understand, what happened yesterday?” he asked Crowley and watched their surroundings carefully. Almost too carefully because he nearly missed the response.

_“I understand some of it, but some of it, well, it’s just a little bit too –“_

_“_ Ineffable,” Death rumbled and before Aziraphale could comprehend what had just happened, words left his mouth.

“Oh – that’s funny, seeing him here. That’s meant to be bad luck.”

But his thoughts were entirely elsewhere as he called after Crowley and was knocked down by Hastur. His thoughts were with the exact words, Crowley had last spoken. The words that had been on Aziraphale’s skin for over six thousand years. The words that had never made sense. The words that made everything suddenly fall into place beautifully.

Aziraphale had never been to hell. It was rather disgusting there and he would prefer not to sit in a bathtub while surrounded by demons, but he had to do this for them. As he stripped off the jacket and the incredibly tight black jeans, Aziraphale became nervous. What if Crowley wouldn’t have done this? Then, his gaze fell on a mark just above Crowley’s knee.

_That’s meant to be bad luck_ , they read and Aziraphale squared his shoulders and climbed into the bathtub.

The rest of it wasn’t so bad, but Aziraphale could not stand still a second until he saw Crowley waiting for him on the park bench. It was there, that he suddenly froze.

“Angel?” Crowley called out and Aziraphale wanted to cry with relief. They had both survived. A part of him – quite a considerable one – had doubted Agnes Nutter. Because the one thing, that was less likely to be wrong than her prophecies were soul-marks; after all, death had actually showed up. Every single second, Aziraphale had spent worrying whether they had overseen something.

But despite everything, Crowley was getting up, alive and well and walked over to where Aziraphale was still standing.

“Everything alright?” he asked, but Aziraphale did not reply. Instead he grabbed Crowley’s – his own body’s – hand and felt the tingling sensation as they swapped back into their true forms. The moment, Aziraphale opened his eyes to find Crowley in front of him, still holding his hand, he made a move. _The_ move. He wrapped his other arm around Crowley’s middle and mashed their lips together. It took the demon a moment to react, but when he eventually did, he brought a hand up to run his fingers through Aziraphale’s curls. The kiss was everything the angel had wanted for centuries and more.

“Angel?” Crowley mumbled against his lips and Aziraphale’s heart soared. “What was that all about?”

“I love you,” Aziraphale blurted out and under any other circumstances, he would have been absolutely mortified but at this very moment, nothing could disturb his happiness.

“Eugh, _love_ ,” Crowley spat, but when he met Aziraphale’s eyes, he sighed. “I suppose, I love you as well, Angel.”

The smile Aziraphale gave was not limited to his lips; he felt like his entire being was smiling.

“You said the words, Crowley” he said softly. “The… my soul-mark.”

“So did you. And neither of us died.”

“We really did it,” Aziraphale sighed and leaned in for another kiss. Crowley’s lips were softer than anticipated. He was – as always – exactly what Aziraphale needed.

“So now what?” the demon asked when they broke apart.

“Now I want to spend however much time we have with you. They’ll finally leave us alone,” Aziraphale said, taking Crowley’s hand and entwining their fingers.

“Lunch, darling?” Crowley asked and Aziraphale only nodded.

* * *

 

That night, when they lay on Crowley’s bed, facing each other, because they had lost thousands of years before they finally could, Aziraphale looked down on his forearm.

_I love you_ , the letters now said, clearer and more beautiful than ever before. Crowley’s skin had a matching inscription.

“I will never stop telling you that,” Aziraphale said softly, as he ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair. The demon was burying his face in the crook of his neck; “for warmth,” he had said.

“Neither will I,” he mumbled against Aziraphale’s collarbone, while he put an arm around his middle.

“Then, I suppose, we’ll live forever,” Aziraphale mused and closed his eyes.

Time was finally theirs.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it <3 
> 
> If so, I always like kudos and especially comments. I think I'm getting the hang of these two, but if you found anything that bothered you about the characterisation, pls let me know.
> 
> Check out my new Good Omens side-blog [a-zira-fell](https://a-zira-fell.tumblr.com/) on tumblr :)


End file.
